Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mexico and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Robert Wyatt to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Al Stewart,
The Leaves,
The Angels of Light,
Tears for Fears,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Invisible,
KRS-One,
The Dead C,
Theoretical Girls,
Electric Prunes,
Bootsy Collins,
Soft Cell,
Nas,
Funky Four + One,
The Young Rascals,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lindisfarne,
Gabor Szabo,
June of 44,
These Immortal Souls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kenny Larkin,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bill Near,
LL Cool J,
Robert Görl,
Easy Going,
Gil Scott Heron,
Subhumans,
Yellowson,
The Moleskins,
Arab on Radar,
John Coltrane,
Essential Logic,
the Bar-Kays,
MC5,
Todd Rundgren,
Second Layer,
The Barracudas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cal Tjader,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Livin' Joy,
Dave Gahan,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Toasters,
Anakelly,
Metal Thangz,
Pussy Galore,
The Velvet Underground,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
F. McDonald,
Faust,
Gerry Rafferty,
Darondo,
Ronnie Foster,
Man Parrish,
Lungfish,
Crooked Eye,
The Sound,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Scan 7,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.